Teach Me To Fly
by Alice Nox
Summary: Jim Kirk Attempts To Jump Off The Highest Building On Earth In A Suicide Attempt. But when a strange, dark haired man finds him, his life begins to fill with mystical, unbelievable things, Angels, demons, and love. PLEASE RATE AND REVIEW!
1. Prologue, Beta

I want to feel euphoria, the pull of the earth dragging me down to its very core. I want to feel the wind scar my skin as I plummet towards the ground. Then, I want to feel the complete freedom of losing everything solid. But most of all, I want to feel the split second of ecstasy as my body smashes into the ground and every mortal part of me leaves, and I am free of the weight of lifetime of pain.

And that's why I, James Tiberius Kirk, am standing on the peak of the Millennium Gate, three thousand-two hundred and eighty feet above the ground, two inches from the ledge. The day is beautiful - it's sunny and seventy degrees. Clouds drift lazily through the sky, and I envy them. No family, no jobs, no pain, just blue skies and refreshing winds. I think...I'll join them once it's over.

I take a step forward, one inch closer to the edge. Just like they use to tell me at Nexus - baby steps, you'll get there. I close my eyes and breath deeply. The air is clean this far up here. If I were to open my eyes and look dead ahead all I would see is sky. No buildings, no hateful faces, just...sky.  
>I run a hand through the mats in my hair and down my face. This is it - it's almost over. Another step.<p>

Left foot this time, I lift it and...

"Sir, I firmly believe you do not wish to do this."

Paralyzed, I turn. Behind me, only about five feet away a single, tall man stands. His short hair is blacker than the darkest night in Iowa and reflects the sun like glass as it dances in the wind. His arms are at his sides, hands lifted so that I may see his empty palms. Despite his cautious stance he bears no sign of being police or any other enforcement that would try to hinder my plan for freedom.

"Thanks for your concern man, but I've been waiting half my life to do this." I turn back to the ledge. If this man is out of sight, he's out of mind.

"Then, sir, since this seems to be so important, and I am a scientist, you will of course not mind taking me with you."

As if the man does it every day, he walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. Instantly anger consumes me. This is MY path, MY destiny. This man will NOT ruin this for me. I grab his weirdly over-warm hands that are clasped over my navel and pull them apart and shove him away from me, careful not to dislodge myself from the gate prematurely.

He stumbles but remains calm and stares at me. Something about him seems to smile at me, even as his face remains blank.

"Stay the hell away from me! You don't know me, man! This is what I want!" I scream without predication. Tears well in my eyes.

This time the man's mouth does actually form a smile. He raises his arm, an elegant, long fingered hand palm up to me.

"No Jim, you do not."


	2. Free Fall, Beta

My name, how does he know my name? Maybe he is with police... has he come to tear me away from my only dream, my only chance at freedom? Dark thoughts from an even darker place in  
>my mind start to race before my eyes. The thoughts are poison to me, closing my airways, causing me to hyperventilate. I can't jump like this, I have to be at peace to feel the descent fully.<p>

I won't be able to jump. The thought rains down on me, filling my mental cup with rage, despair, and depressing questions. Why, why now? I just want to be free.

"How...how the hell do you know my name?" If this man wants to take my dream away, then he should fight me for the right to do so. But the dark haired man's reaction is not what I thought it would be. He shows no sign of trying to stop my anger, of trying to negotiate it away as a policeman would.  
>His body shifts in the loose, black cotton, button down trousers that seem to drape heavenly about him. His face contorts by fractions, a mixture of pain and gentle humor glows on the planes of his cheeks and the lines of his mouth.<p>

"I know your name Jim, because...you told it to me." His words fall from his tongue calmly, slowly, deceivingly - for I know them to be lies.

"Bullshit! We've never met before in my life! Quit lying! Whoever you are, why-ever you're here, just leave me alone!" My voice cracks and breaks between my words, and my lungs ache, wheezing. The air is thin, this high up here. If only I could jump, then I wouldn't be wheezing or light headed.

"Jim. I would never lie to you. I am here because you called out to me, you brought me here. We have finally found each other again, t'hy'la. I cannot leave you now, no more than I could let you jump off this building. You are only mortal now Jim...

There's not enough air up here - I'm not use to it. Everything's fuzzy - the man is beginning to look like a drawing somebody smudged. He seems to speak only in riddles and tongues. I can only make out a little of what he's saying. We know each other? That can't be true. And what is t'hy'la?  
>Words have lost their meaning... they seem to drift in and out of my mind like waves on a beach, lulling me into<br>a haze.

"Jus' s-stay away fom' me." I put my hands out, trying to push the haze and the man away. Trying to escape them, I begin to step back words. Gotta get away, gotta...gotta jump...the ledge! Before I can halt my inebriated actions, my foot steps into nothingness, and I plummet. For a moment pure adrenalin shoots through my veins, but then it chills into the euphoria I have longed for. And as I fall I can hear a sound chasing me over the whistle of the wind, the sound of a deep voice screaming my name, but it too just gets lost in the haze.

I'm falling.

I'm free.

No more pain.

So free.

So...weightless.

The feeling of falling is everything I knew it would be -

I am no longer James T. Kirk, a puppet of the Nexus sickos that work there. I am the wind, I am weightless. I can still hear the deep voice calling out to me, and, as i do,  
>something inside me...hurts. The voice is so familiar, yet so far away. Just like the wind it too consumes me, wraps me in a liquid comfort. I don't just hear the voice, I feel it. And I just know, it's gonna be okay. I drift in the voice and feel it around me like waves of electricity, flowing on the pores of my skin.<p>

I can feel the end coming. I hang on to the feeling of flying, and listen to the voice that's all around me.

I hear my name again, in that deep soothing voice. And then, everything goes black.


	3. Wrath, Beta

I sit upon a pew in a mixture of somber thought and elation. Around me, the whine of a chorus made of whispers spills into my ears and electrifies my skin. Do they know of my treason? Were they watching? I twittle my thumbs about in a most unvulcan way.

My thoughts are panicked and yet, I feel...sickly at ease. What I have done is the highest form of transgression. What would they say if they knew that I am empty of the shame that they expect me to feel? Feel. Even in the afterlife the word carries with me. I am still expected to feel, to be human.

I glance around at the portrait of utopia. It seems to be a modern palace, all sleek and absent of sharp edges. But then again, that's only what I perceive it to be. Bleached, luminous white light gently lavishes everything; it seems to come from nowhere, and everywhere.

When I first arrived here, long,long ago I was told that the light came from us, it seeped from our pores and sloshed inside our veins. I was told the light was Ekon. It was his beauty, his generosity, his life that he gave to us so we might experience this "utopia".

But now, I am certain that those words were falsehoods. What God would drive us apart? What God would show us the world, then tell us not to touch it? What God, would damn hearts? What God...would take him away from me, just to show me his suffering?

The massive bell of counsel that hovers seemingly thousands of feet above this "heaven" begins to swing. For three point six seconds not a sound emits from it, and not a sound is made. Then, thunder as loud as a thousand hurricanes consumes everything. The white light begins to twinkle out as dirty clouds fill above, obscuring the bell of counsel. They will see me now, to put me on trial.

Souls that had once filled the chamber are now gone, evaporated away into their own personal heaven.

Remain calm, he's safe. That is all that matters.

I close my eyes, ready for my sentence.

Burning white light melts me - inside my mind I am in the the Angels' Courtroom.

"You have disobeyed...You have...turned your back on us..." Thousands of voices stab into my katra, questioning, searching for the answers they seek.

"No, My lord. I have simply done what my heart tells me to do."

"Lies! You seem to forget my child, you no longer have a heart. You betray me, your kind...for a mere mortal!" The voices swell within me - it seems that they might erupt from my skull.

"My lord-"

"I have given you everything, my son. A heaven. A freedom to walk the mortal world. I have even made you an Archangel, the highest rank of angel possible. Now, you would throw it all away...for a mortal. The number of voices multiply with anger. My skull feels it is being cracked open. A tear of clear, white light slips down my face, the equivalent of blood.

"My lord, please...I need him. I love him. He was not always mortal..."

No more words, only forced feelings. There is nothing but white, I cannot escape it. Ekon's anger fills me. I scream, not for mercy but for Jim. I scream for my t'hy'la 's forgiveness. Jim will not hear me, he does not even remember who I am, or what we were and always will be. I scream to him nonetheless - Jim is the only comfort in any life.

But even Jim could not save me from the white light.


	4. Jim Wake Up! , Beta

"GAHHHHAAHHHHHH!" I bolt upright, surprised to find myself at home in a familiar bed. My heart clatters against my ribs, clumsy with adrenalin. My breath is a series of panicked gulps and huffs. Shaking hands grasp at the sheets, knotting them, desperate to relieve the aching tension. Frantic to confirm that this is reality I scan my bedroom, then look out of the open door into the hallway. Everything is where I left it. Books line my walls on the shelves, dotted by the occasional painting. This is indeed real. I am...alive.

The feeling of safety lulls me, allowing any leftover tension to fall away. I slump over slightly, now fully awake. Calm and full of the feeling of foolishness I sigh, placing my face in the sanctuary of my dry palms. As soon as my eyelids drift shut I gasp in almost unfathomable pain. Flashes of my dream branding my memories.

A part of me refuses to to believe it was a dream. It was too intense, in too much detail - more real than anything I've ever dreamed before. I can practically remember the thin air gliding over my skin and pushing me to the edge. I remember the height and its pull. And...there was that guy. He had come from nowhere, even called me by name. I chuckle and shake my head like the mares I had grown up watching, wanting to ride. It was just a dream...

I realize it's seven a.m., time to get ready for work. I straighten my back and grit my teeth at the at least six cracks that sound off. Slowly, so as to not wake my neighbors with more of my cracking joints, I leave the dampness of my sweat slick sheets. Shower, that will help. Hot water should be just the thing to wash away the dreams.

-

The water's too hot - it scalds my skin. And, to be honest, I love it. Breathing in the thick steam like the San Francisco fog. It makes me feel new, like I've melted away any past transgressions and have been born again. On this morning however, it does nothing but give me time to be consumed by my thoughts.

It wasn't a dream. It was a dream within a nightmare. I had been ready to fly when the man seemingly materialized out of nowhere. I remember his deep voice, calling my name, but the memory its fragmented as if it was playing on a scratched CD inside thick cotton. I remember...Getting scared, angry...losing my balance. Things are hazy after that.

But as much too hot water cascades down my skin it triggers something, a dream that I had forgotten. It was the nightmare within my dream. I remember it like an over exposed film, much too bright, so bright it burns. I feel that parts of this nightmarish dream are missing as it begins to come to life, pieces burned away by the brightness of it. In all the stinging brightness, there is a single, cooling sanctuary within this world of light. The man from my dream sits on a seemingly featureless pew. He's dressed in the same fashion as he was in my first dream, all in black, the dark spot when you look into the sun for too long.

More white haze fills in after that. Out of nowhere thousands of voices and searing pain take over every cell in my body. I collapse in the shower cubical sobbing in pain. In the back my mind I know somehow that this pain doesn't belong to me. Spock.

It was a magician's switch, all pain was gone as soon as it come. The hot water feels cool against my mentally burned skin. And I realize...It. Was. _Not._ A. Dream. But I'm left with a questions which are oddly as painful as the brightness itself. Who is Spock? Why do I know that name? How are we connected?


	5. Meditation, Beta

_Spock._

I awake slowly, unused to sleeping after the countless years of my immortality. With consciousness comes pain, a parting gift from Ekon himself. Not fully banished from Utopia I can still feel my connection to it, sustaining me, filling my veins with the necessary liquid light for me to function._Spock!_ My body does something at the faint sound of Jim inside my mind, I quickly recognize it, and gasp. I now recall why I awoke prematurely - he has touched my mind for the first time in many, many, many years. I am filled with an incalculable amount of, I believe mortals call it, joy. But as I sit on the park bench that I awoke on, savoring the feel of Jim's mind against mine something is apparent.

Jim's mind is touching mine at random, he is not yet aware of our link. His soul must sense mine on a subconscious level, touching it out of familiarity. While it is not what it once was, the link is more than I could have allowed myself to hope for. With it I may be able to find Jim. When I had saved him not thirty-eight hours earlier I had simply used my immortal abilities to simply evaporate him. Now, with many of those abilities no longer available to me I must find him manually.

For the moment however, I will remain here, meditating on these challenges that I am confronted with. The park is too cold on my now mortal vulcan skin, and the bench is too hard on my newly reborn nerves beneath it, but somehow I slip into a deep meditative state.

"Spock, do you think we'll ever get bored here?" Jim's innocent voice was half teasing, half serious. They sat beneath an enormous oak tree in their shared personal heaven. Spock sat propped against the oak's trunk at its seven foot wide base, by his wish the bark was as soft as cotton. Jim sat against him, head resting on his right shoulder, hand stroking the arm that Spock had draped about his shoulder to keep his human as close as possible.

"I highly doubt it, t'hy'la." Spock answered, simply to humor his love, his free hand running through Jim's thick hair. They both were gazing at the structure not 100 yards away, the farmhouse they had owned in 1852. It was one of their favorite places to lounge, just enjoying each other's company.

"I think that we will. We're already beginning to lose a lot of our humanity. I can no longer feel jealousy, or understand why I liked to free climb. And you said it yourself Spock, you can't remember the taste of your favorite tea, and you've forgotten many of the equations you had used throughout many of your mortal lives."

Spock gave a deep sigh. He knew what Jim was getting at. He wanted to leave again...

"Perhaps...a change of location... or-"

"No, Spock. Not this time, I think it's time to go back again. But I won't go if you don't." Jim's words were somber. He had every reason to be, every time they went back, were reincarnated it meant losing each other for a time. It was a game of russian roulette, - they had lives where they hadn't met until their sixties, lives where one of them had a terminal disease. They always came together, but when and for how long was never clear.

"I will follow you anywhere, t'hy'la - you know this."

"Yes, but I know you hate when we are parted."

"This is true Jim, but if you wish to request a reincarnation from Ekon then I will gladly follow you. I may hate the time that we are parted, but during the life I would not recall that." said Spock, gesturing to everything around them. " And what is that human saying? You cannot truly miss what you do not truly remember."

Jim looked at Spock with twinkling eyes, filled with tears of gratitude.

"Thank you, ashaya. I wish it didn't have to be this hard, this unfair...I hate it here som-"

Spock placed a long finger on his human's lips.

"Shhh, t'hy'la. Do not speak of such things, it would not do well to anger Ekon as it stands."

Moving his finger Spock claimed the soft, immortal lips of his eternal love. Jim's lips melded to his, yet let him remain the lead in the dance, yielding to Spock's will. Spock drew away slightly and let out a gentle chuckle.

"Only you would be discontent in heaven t'hy'la."

-

I emerge from my meditative trance, a deep pain in my empty chest cavity. This is my fault. I couldn't keep my promise, and now...  
>I must find Jim, even if must search the entire earth and beyond. I cannot remain while he is fragmented.<p>

I concentrate on the chilled link that connects Jim and I through time, space, death and life. I ease myself from the cold, hard park bench and begin to walk. I am uncertain where it is I am going, but I trust that Jim will lead me to him. Just as he called to me, and led me to him on the top of the gate to save him, to reunite us.


	6. Contemplation, Beta

How do you know if you're going mad? Are there tell-tail signs? Do you tweak? Do you itch? Can people tell? Conflicting thoughts stream in and out of my head at light-speed, causing my mind to wage war on itself. And all because of a dream... because of him.

Did it happen?

Was it real?

Am I still dreaming at this moment?

How do you define reality if a dream seems more real?

Fragmented, jumbled thoughts create a cage inside my mind. I feel claustrophobic, sitting on the park bench. Burning echoes of white light and a pain that isn't my own set me into a frenzy I can barely contain. My skin itches with things I know I should remember, but which are just out of my grasp.

But there is more, and it is infinitely surprising. Beneath my cold sweats, paranoid thoughts and confusion there is... sanctuary. A feeling of wholeness. For once in my life I am not alone. I don't know how, but this being and I, this Spock- I can feel we are somehow connected.

Even as a part of me reels against the very thought of him, denies his very existence. There is an unrelenting part of me that I cannot deny, a part that is somehow connected to this haunting figure. For I have shared his pain, and know of his thoughts.

It doesn't make sense, I but I just know I have find him. It's as if my very soul is driving me to find him.

The feeling was akin to that of when you're just beginning to fall asleep, and for a for a brief moment you lose your body. For a split second you simply float, relishing the feel of weightlessness. But then you panic, your body jerks and your limbs flail about, desperate for the solidity of the surface you never left.

It was a never-ending mental void filled with bliss. But then a violent jerk pulled the delicate strings dangerously taught.

"Jim"

He is becoming aware, I can feel it. His end of the bond is no longer blindly reaching out. He is now timidly exploring the the plains of the bond, running across my katra. Even if they are only delicate touches, the first, mainly subconscious attempts, they are my hope.

But before I can truly enjoy feeling the touches, they die away. Frustrated but hopeful I rise from the park bench. My next course of action is crucial. I must find Jim - the bond is awakening at my arrival in the world of the living. It is no doubt causing him some measure of discomfort and confusion. If I could just explain...

Sighing in new-found frustration I sit once again. What am I to say to him? James in any life has a very analytical mind, despite his seemingly rash actions. I very highly doubt that he would believe me. I am a stranger to him. He would think me a mad man, and cast me away.

I must think - there has to be a logical solution...

But time is of the essence. Jim and I are running out of time even now. If I cannot convince Jim to bond with me in this life, our mortal bodies will decay and our souls will be lost for eternity. God's trial and punishment...


	7. Catalyst, Beta

"YOU DONT EVEN KNOW ME! WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SAVE ME?"

I scream the words, knowing the only ones to hear will be the homeless who sit on the corners in a daze, drunk from a mixture of alcohol and hopelessness. Rain runs down my face mixing with my tears caused by a pain so great it shakes me to my core. I wish I could wash away just like the raindrops, go with them down these littered alleyways and streets. Never in pain, just flowing. Existing souly to fall from the heavens and linger on earth for a short time, briefly giving life before receding to the clouds above n in an endless cycle. That life seems like something I would enjoy, and even feels oddly familiar.

As I once again begin sloshing down the dark alleyway on my way towards home, a revelation brought on through my sorrow born raindrop daydream catches me._ Any life or...death would be better than this life which I lead. _Walking in rain, knowing nobody can tell the difference so I waste no energy trying to stop the tears. And with nothing to focus on, my mind drifts to memories of my life thus far.

Growing up I remember watching my parents slowly become more and more disappointed in me. I remember my mother yelling at me, screaming her hatred for me. My father shaking his head, turning away in disgust, bottle always in hand. And I remember that day in December, finding my mother's corpse in the frozen garden, skull shattered into oblivion, crows pecking at the warm brain matter on the ice. She had killed herself, no longer could she stand my fathers drunken beatings. Then, memories of my father's sorrow filled wails through the walls at night. Occasionally I would even catch him in the study holding my mother picture, but when he saw me it was always the same. _"You took her from me, you did_ _this_,"

And on the day I turned nine, my father finally gave in to his grieve. He had the only people he could get to take me pick me up at our house. I remember them paying him, thanking him for contributing to the Nexus and its cause. The people then restrained me, drugged me and took me away.

But even now, thirteen years later, I'm still consumed by sorrow and there is a void that aches, a void that I feel can never be filled. My life is empty, devoid of cause or drive. And had that man not taken away my chance, I would have been free of all of it.

My reentry into reality from my thoughts is bittersweet. My vision is blurred, my face feels hot, and the rest of me is cold from rain. I thank the heavens that its three in the morning and it's too dark and rainy for anyone to see what a mess I am. But I think even if people could see I don't think I would care. I'm too weak, and much too worn. After working all day with crazed thoughts, every little thing is beginning to tease, confuse, and mess with my mind. Like how what happened on the top of the gate doesn't even matter because in the end, I'm still miserable, still lost, the nexus is still looking for me, and worst of all, I'm still alive.

These little things replay like a broken record inside my mind until the pain once again swells and almost involuntarily, I scream into the night sky. But in the end I feel no better. All I've done is mixed my voice with the rain and caused a white noise of sorts. A white noise that in end, prevents me from the hearing the car speeding down the backstreet that I'm on, coming right up behind me. And only when my voice dies do I hear the car but it's to late for me to get out of the way, and the driver is too far gone from his cocktail of drugs and alcohol to remember which petal the break is andit barrels on towards me and…


End file.
